NEW YORK CITY MARATHON 2024 CLASSICS #1 X NEW BALANCE

They say it's the most beautiful race in the world, and we'll kill the suspense right away: nothing could be truer.

The New York City Marathon is a massive slap of running right in the face, Disneyland for runners, a myth, a legend, a Major obviously, flawless organisation and of course that crazy American touch that sweeps you up in a euphoria that starts the moment you land at the airport and only ends once you're back home.

It all kicks off on Friday with bib pick-up and, above all, the official New Balance x New York City Marathon store, one of the rare marathon expo stands where you need to stay calm and think twice before blowing a month's minimum wage on merch. The next day we chill at the Distance x Jolie Foulée Classics pop-up, where you can connect with loads of people and swap as much positive energy as possible. Everyone's fired up and promising an incredible race.

Without further ado: Sunday morning, we watch a gorgeous yellow and blue sunrise over the skyscrapers from the bus taking us to Staten Island for the start. 4°C, and we hadn't brought anything warm enough for the pre-race wait. We're freezing our b*lls off in a measly space blanket and the bold beanie handed out by sponsor Dunkin Donuts. Luckily, New Balance has saved us a spot in its VIP tent. It's warm, there's food and drink and, the ultimate luxury for any marathoner, a long row of easily accessible portaloos to unload everything that goes through an athlete at a moment like this. You know the drill.

We're called to our start pen. It's huge, like a village. Fracture and Cédric say goodbye and wish each other a good race. We'd been dreading bone-chilling cold, but everything flows and the excitement warms us up a little. Time flies and we can already see the bridge and the start. The announcer's voice is transcendent, “ATHLETES! ON YOUR MAAAARKS!!!”, the start waves roll out one after another, each with its own cannon blast, and the sound system belts out New York, New York by Frank Sinatra. It's a cliché, but damn, it works. By far the most stylish start we've ever had.

Race time. The first kilometres are already incredible. We weave our way across the bridge to pick up a few places, running warms you up and straight away the temperature feels perfect. Fracture is doing a session: he and his coach have split the marathon into blocks. 5 kilometres of warm-up, 10 kilometres at Valencia Marathon pace, 10 kilometres of steady recovery, another 10 kilometres at Valencia pace and finally an easy cruise to the line. Traffic is heavy at this early stage of the course, and Lionel wonders whether to stretch his warm-up to kilometre 7 to get clear of the chaos.

In the end, the avenues are wide and he can get going from kilometre 5. The atmosphere is already insane: people everywhere, shouting, cowbells, applause, and the race flies by. Fracture is also lucky enough to bump into mates and swap a word with each of them: Kiel from Lyon, Gabriele from Mental Athletic, Simon from the Berlin Braves, Tim from the Lost Boys. Mile 8, Flatbush-Lafayette, is particularly nuts. It's like the Tour de France, people screaming, enough to give any runner a boost. But careful, there's still a long way to go.

End of kilometre 24, we hit that bastard of a Queensboro Bridge, which really hammers the legs. Time for Fracture to start his second pace block, and that's the exact moment he runs into Nibrun and Alassan out on a New York easy run. They're with Gatien, who agrees to run alongside Fracture: it'll be a tempo for him. Gatien is (way too) comfortable, the kilometres tick by and it gets harder and harder for Lionel, who is very glad to stop overheating the New Balance SuperComp Elite v4 and finally wrap up his second block of 10 k's.

Session done, now we just glide to the finish line. The coach said not to push at all, which is just as well: Fracture has nothing left in his legs. The real fight will come in a month in Valencia. Gatien has gone off solo up front. The long climb up Fifth Avenue seems endless and really hurts the legs, and just when you think it's over, you enter what feels like the rollercoaster of Central Park at this point in the race. Time to get it over with. Lionel expects a little pat on the bum from the Brun/Farah duo at any moment, but it's only when he turns around on the finish line that he finds his mates. Perfect timing. Everyone is stoked to pull on the superb orange poncho with its fleece lining, a hug in a world of cramps.

Off to Levain Bakery: free cookies for every medallist. It's too cold to wait for Cédric, who delivered exactly the underperformance he'd promised! On cloud nine, ponchos over our shoulders or medals round our necks, we spend the rest of the trip loving the congratulations from strangers in the street, on the subway, at the hotel. Americans are great at that: they make you feel like you've achieved something huge and easily strike up a conversation about the race. Yet another super cool granny on the subway congratulates us and says “We love our marathon!” We loved it too, ma'am.

Thanks to New Balance for the unforgettable memories. Want more? Head to our Insta @joliefoulee for the video by the famous Lorsbach.